Warm Honey
by pjstillnoon
Summary: Post Honey fic. What did Cal plan to do with that warm honey?


The mirror is steamy and Gillian can't see her reflection. She is just reaching with a hand to wipe it clear again when there is a light tap at the door. She hesitates before answering, knowing it is her houseguest, but she's not sure what he wants; he never knocks on the door. And when she doesn't answer, the handle turns and the door pops open a little. His movements are slow and deliberate and it gives her all the time in the world to object but she doesn't and so his face appears in the gap and then his shoulders, then a hip and a leg, a hand on the frame and a curl of cold air. Gillian looks at him over her shoulder and his returning gaze is steady on hers. "I was just wondering if you were out of the shower," he says softly.

"Yes," Gillian affirms, a hand at her chest to keep the towel secure. "I'll just be a minute and then you can…" she trails off. He doesn't respond to her offer to vacate the room. Instead, he comes in further, letting the door click closed behind him. She stops talking but her body turns to him, attentive even if she's unsure. She doesn't always know what motivates him, but she does trust him. If he wants to be in the bathroom right now, there has to be a good reason; she'll know why soon enough.

Cal's gaze his heavy on hers as he crosses the room silently. He's in socks, his jeans scuffing over her tiles. He stands in front of her, raises a hand to her upper arm; his fingers are cold against her flushed skin. He stares at her for a brief second, then leans in, closing the gap and his eyes flicker to her mouth and she knows, knows what he is going to do before he does it. And then he does it. No preamble, no… excessively long build up or heartfelt plea. He just kisses her.

He brushes his lips against hers and Gillian's pretty sure she's holding her breath. It changes something in her, something she wasn't sure was there, but can feel now: desire. The surprise of his mouth against hers makes her suck in a surprise and he takes that opportunity to tease her mouth a little more firmly; he has access now. His body still stays away from her and she still does not react much to him. Her eyes flutter close, so her mind can picture it in her head, the way his fingers glance against her upper arm, feathery tickles and his body leaning over so his mouth can press against hers. Then he pulls back and her eyes flicker open and she's breathing faster. She licks her lips subconsciously and startles again.

"You taste like honey," she blurts inanely. She wonders where he got it from; her cupboards?

He steps closer then, his fingers firmer against her arm, curling to grip, to hold her in place? Yes, to hold her in place. He kisses her again, less careful than before. To be fair, she didn't shove him away last time. And really, this was not entirely unpleasant. She's thought about it, of course, he flirts, he makes her think about it, but she thought it might have been weird; they're friends. But it's a good kiss and he kisses well and he really does taste sweet, like honey, but she must be imaging it.

Then there's something against her neck, it feels like a finger and it draws down slowly over her pulse, making her stomach tighten. But Cal isn't done there. He traces his lips over her skin, over her jaw, to the hollow beneath, and he licks. He put something on her skin and now he licks and suckles it off again and it drives her wild. Wickedly. She brings both hands to his shoulders, gripping tightly, forgetting that this should be strange behaviour because it just feels so damn good. He nips at her throat and she's undone. She feels her towel start to unravel and she doesn't think twice about letting it drop.

She's not thinking, she's feeling. She feels Cal's teeth against her throat, his fingers on her skin, smoothing and caressing and spurring her on. Her eyes are closed and her head tilted back to give him the room and her breath is coming in harsh. She tries to speak but manages little more than a small moan. With the closeness of the steamy room, it doesn't echo around guiltily. She should feel guilty shouldn't she? She is leading him on, not being rational, not trying to get answers. She is encouraging him. It just feels so damn good, so right, so... oh. He pulls back and looks at her and his eyes are dark and needy. He drops his eyes down and looks at her and its then that Gillian realises the towel is gone and she is naked. Her stomach scrunches up tightly, trying to hide but it's too late. She's exposed, he sees everything.

She doesn't actually have anything to be ashamed of; she looks good naked. Cal's hand feathers over her hip and she's looking down at what he's looking at and then watches his hand as it moves to his pocket. That's when she realises he has something in there, something bulky and awkward. He takes it out and it's a small plastic jar. Of honey. So it _is_ honey that she can taste on his lips and smell in the air and oh, that is what he put on her skin. He takes the plastic jar and her hand and puts them together, so she is now holding the container. It's warm, she realises, against her palm. Cal takes his finger and deliberately dips it inside, withdraws again and his finger is coated lightly with the thick golden viscous.

He has to move quickly, because the liquid honey is running back over his knuckles, so before Gillian can really process what he's about to do, he's already doing it. He traces the finger along her collar bone and down her sternum. It slides easily at first, then the friction of the pores of their skin slow him down. He steps a little bit closer, lowering his mouth slowly, giving her time to comprehend this time for sure, and then his mouth is hot against her skin.

She tilts her head back to let him. His tongue is sure against her skin and it feels wonderful. He grips her with both hands on either hip until he's finished and then he dips his finger again, a hungry expression on his face, and eagerly brings it against her chest this time. She lets him. She lets him because she likes it, and because it's him. He almost died today but tonight he is there with her.

He touches her breast, drawing the tip of his honeyed finger around her nipple, making it hard and her stomach taut. It makes her breath falter and her hand tighten around the honey jar. The other slides against the back of his head and she realises she's tugging at him, urging him, encouraging him, to lick the honey off her skin again. He does, slowly and hotly and wetly and she's practically a puddle on the bathroom floor. Her legs are quivering and she really wants to sit down right where she is, so she doesn't have to worry about collapsing. Her breath is a harsh huff and her grip on Cal is so tight. Heat floods her skin and her body is answering him easily.

It gets to the point where she really can't stand it and Cal must sense this. They've not said a word in long, long delightful minutes and Gillian prepares herself to speak. She's not going to ask him what he's doing; she honestly doesn't want to know. She's going to ask him if they can go somewhere else. "Bedroom," her voice is so obviously strained and her cheeks stain with how badly she is enjoying this.

Cal looks up at her. "No luv, not the bedroom." She's about to protest, her hips nudging into him, pressing the honey jar into his side, forgetting that it's there until he takes it from her grip; it feels like punishment. "Can you imagine the mess this'd make?" He holds up the plastic to prove his point and instead of escorting her out of the room, he uses his sticky honeyed fingers to nudge her backwards, manhandling her around the room until she feels something against the back of her leg.

"The bath Cal?"

"Get in," he directs.

The heat inside her is dissipating. "It's cold," she complains. Cal shoves the honey jar at her and turns. He grabs her towel from the floor and tosses it at her, then goes to the cupboard and takes an armful of towels from the shelf. He throws them loosely into the bottom of the bath and gestures at the pile. The look in his eye is deadly and Gillian forgets to ask why the honey, she forgets to ask why now, she forgets to object; she forgets for a second that she is completely naked and he is almost fully dressed. She goes with it, climbing over the edge and using Cal to steady herself but the spell is slowly fading and she suddenly doesn't like that he has too many clothes on and she has none. It's too late for her to get dressed now, but that doesn't mean he can't join her. She turns to face him and gives him the jar of honey back, reaching with her hands for his shirt. The lift of the bath gives her a slight height advantage and she is able to see Cal's dark eyes, feel his breath against her skin as she leans in to undo the buttons.

She strips him pretty quickly, wanting him to join her again. They tussle the honey jar between them and it tips up, spilling against her stomach. It's warm still, and sliding rapidly down around her bellybutton. It does something to Cal. He quickly steps into the bath, dropping to his knees in front of her, lapping it up. Gillian finally ditches the jar and slithers both sets of fingers into his hair. So soft. And his mouth is so... Almost delicate. When it seems he's finished, and the burn in her pelvis is low and dangerous, Gillian tugs him to stand. She kisses him hotly, exploring with her tongue, tasting the traces of honey and seeking them out. Cal gives a growl and pushes on her shoulder. They both drop carefully to the bed of towels and Cal pushes her back so she's against the curve of the tub. It's cold and she arches sharply, pushing her stomach up against him as he leans over her. She's not sure how they fit, but Cal, her business partner, is doing dirty things to her, in her bathtub, in her house, with warm honey. And it doesn't even feel weird. It feels really fucking good!

His torso presses down against hers, pushing and rubbing and he's between her thighs, solid and hard, grinding, creating friction against her nakedness with his jeans. Gillian is just as urgent back. She's gulping air just as hard as he does when he breaks away from her mouth. Her fingers are just as tight against his flesh as his are against her shoulder and breast. They're half caressing, half just scraping and it's all driving Gillian wild. The tingling becomes intense, unignorable and she shifts her hips, brings her legs up, to make gravity bring Cal closer against her, pushing harder until she feels herself slipping. She's shaking and her toes are curling and a sound comes out of her throat like a whimper. Cal doesn't let up, but he does seem to ease off. If he's surprised she reaches the height of pleasure, Gillian doesn't notice.

Cal slows down a lot after that. His kisses become more tender and his hips rock gently against her. It takes Gillian long moments to catch her breath again, to be able to feel her legs and he's patient, waiting. He's still hard against her and she holds him until his entire body is soft and relaxed. She's holding him in the bed of her bathtub, wrapped around him, warm and strangely content. It should be strange but it's not. She thinks about what could have happened today; imagines his head shattering in front of her, and it makes her want to cry, but she just holds him tighter against her, feeling his very real breath on her neck as they just lie there. It doesn't matter that they didn't actually have sex. It's better, in some ways; this feels more intimate. It feels like the start of something and Gillian is grateful for that. She'll take it. She won't ruin it with words.  
It seems Cal doesn't want to either, because he stays quiet, lying right on top of her, but not crushing her, his arms underneath him to hold most of his weight. Gillian can feel his legs bent at awkward angles; he's not tall but she doesn't fit into the tub properly either. She's not sure where the honey came from, somewhere in his head, something she can't fathom, but likes that it isn't a cliché. It isn't chocolate. It is different, unique; she isn't going to forget this for a while. Nor is she going to be able to put honey on her toast in the morning without thinking of it, of him. Maybe that is the point?

Gillian pets the hair at the back of Cal's head. She'd be freezing if it weren't for him. The steam is gone and she's aware that she's not clean anymore. The honey leaves ghosts of sticky against her skin. Cal was right though, it would have made an incredible mess in her bed that she'd then have to sleep in it. Or on the carpet; she did drop that jar of honey somewhere over there on the tiles. She wants to ask him what this all means, and she's not ashamed of coming undone right in front of him, all over him really, but she doesn't. She doesn't want to break the moment but also, he came to knock on her door this evening. He came to knock on her bathroom. He started this, he can finish it. He did finish it. Gillian smiles to herself, cards her fingers through his hair, against his skull. Cal gives a content sigh and Gillian turns her jaw to kiss his forehead.

It doesn't feel like enough, but it feels like a start.

"I really like honey," Cal says softly.

Gillian gives a hum. "Me too."

Cal gives a chuckle and Gillian laughs a little. He pushes against the bath to bring himself up to his hands, so he can look at her face. His gaze his tender and he leans forward to place a soft kiss at her mouth. Gillian likes the way his muscles bunch under his skin. "Let's go to bed k?" He waits for her answer before moving again, his movements are careful and controlled. There are no declarations. Not even now.

"Ok," Gillian agrees. That, she can handle.


End file.
